The cafeteria was its usual midday storm — clattering trays, bursts of laughter, the aroma of bread and stew — until the air shifted.
Wads sat at a far corner table with a half-empty tray, quiet as ever. Across from him, Klyden leaned back in his chair, lazily sipping water and scanning the hall with the ease of someone who noticed everything but cared for little.
That peace shattered when Clamber Jackson Viorell swaggered in, trailed by his usual pack of grinning shadows. His voice carried, laced with the kind of arrogance that filled every gap in the room.
"Look at this. The so-called hero. Medal pinned to a uniform he didn't earn. Probably cheated in the Deity test — we all know how commoners are."
The minions snickered, their eyes darting to see who else was listening.
Wads kept his gaze on his bread, sawing at it slowly.
Klyden, however, stopped mid-drink. His eyes flicked to the group, then to Wads. His brow rose slightly — he'd seen Wads stay silent before, but there was a flicker of something tighter in the boy's jaw this time.
Clamber stepped closer, the sneer widening.
"Commoner trash. Should've given that medal to someone who actually deserves—"
The last word hung unfinished.
The upper hall had gone silent.
Footsteps — sharp, deliberate — cut through the stillness like drumbeats.
Liora.
She crossed the floor with predatory precision, her mismatched eyes locked on Clamber like a hawk sighting a field mouse. Her arrival shifted the air, and Klyden leaned back further in his chair, lips curling in faint amusement — the kind of smile that said this is about to get good.
She stopped just in front of Clamber, leaning in until the space between them was razor-thin. Her voice was low, but it carried across the room.
"Repeat that. Louder. I want everyone here to hear the last words you'll say with all your teeth intact."
The words landed like a blade point against his throat — no need for shouting, no room for doubt.
Clamber froze. His followers fidgeted under the weight of the silence, eyes darting between her and the exit. One muttered something about having "somewhere to be" before all but dragging Clamber away.
Liora straightened, brushed an imaginary speck off her shoulder, and turned toward Wads's table without a glance back.
Klyden raised an eyebrow at her arrival, tilting his head.
"Subtle as ever."
Liora smirked.
"It worked, didn't it?"
She plucked the fork from Wads's hand and set it back on his plate.
"Eat. You're letting it get cold."
Wads blinked at her, unsure what startled him more — her words, or the fact that she'd stood between him and the world like it was the most natural thing to do.
Klyden chuckled quietly, leaning toward him.
"You get used to it."
Liora moved off to grab her own meal, the storm of her presence leaving a strange stillness in its wake.
Wads sat frozen, fork idle, the faintest crease between his brows. He didn't look embarrassed — not exactly — but his thoughts were clearly spiraling somewhere between gratitude and I didn't deserve that.
Klyden tore a piece of bread from his own tray, chewed, and then spoke without looking up.
"You're overthinking it."
Wads glanced at him.
"She didn't have to—"
Klyden cut him off with a small shake of his head.
"She did it because she wanted to. That's it. Stop trying to measure it like it's a debt you need to repay."
The simplicity of it hit harder than Wads expected.
Klyden leaned forward slightly, voice low enough that only Wads could hear.
"People like Clamber? They bark because they know they're not worth a bite. And people like Liora? They bite because they know you are."
Wads stared at him for a moment, unsure what to say.
Klyden only smirked faintly, tilting his head toward Wads's tray.
"Now eat. Or she'll come back, and trust me — you'll wish you listened to me the first time."
This time, Wads picked up his fork without argument.
Klyden sat back again, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
It wasn't much — a shared table, a few quiet words — but to Wads, it felt like the kind of thing that stayed.